Untitled
by Vampire-Angel-Z
Summary: It takes the best in the business, to make him let her go. Alfred hires an extraction team to help Bruce forgets Rachel. AKA when Inception and TDKR had a baby...
1. Chapter 1

The events of the movie occur because Alfred has hired an extraction team to help get Bruce past Rachel's death.

And as for readers who came here expecting something of reasonable length, sorry guys. This monster got out of hand.

Disclaimer: It all belongs to Nolan, and DC.

* * *

"No," Cobb says. "Absolutely not. You are mad."

Alfred Pennyworth smiles, "I was told you are the best in the business."

"And I was told this is a simple extraction job."

Not many people know Alfred has a brother. Stephen Miles Pennyworth doesn't like to mention his twin any more than Alfred likes to mention his.

"We are family Mr. Cobb." Alfred was warned about Cobb's paranoia. "Please help me willingly. Please don't make me threaten you. Master Wayne has to let Rachel go."

"My people," Cobb's eyes soften, "I can't risk my people. Bruce Wayne's mind, Batman's mind is volatile to the highest degree. I cannot let my team walk into something like this. We aren't just any group, we actually care for each other. They won't survive his mind."

Decades ago, when Bruce was a depressed teen making Alfred's life hell, Miles had visited, and chastised Alfred for his poor parenting skills and bragged about his perfectly well-behaved daughter. It was then Alfred had cursed his brother. _I hope you have someone in your life that complicates everything just by walking in the damn room, Miles. I hope you learn how it feels. _It is infinitely soothing, and amusing to see Cobb sitting in all his terrifyingly complicated glory.

"Your secret is safe with me." Cobb gives Alfred what he thinks is a reassuring smile, in reality it just comes off as a very constipated look. "No one will learn of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego."

"You just found your way back to the US, Mr. Cobb." Alfred smiles his most dangerous smile. "Don't make me send you away again. Don't make me break your reality. Your children deserve a father."

Cobb's lips are a tight, strained line.

"You think you know what secret-keeping is?" Alfred's tone never changes, it's as if he speaks of the weather. "Wait till I tell the authorities what you carry around in that briefcase. There are people looking for that PASIV. I will bet my life on it."

* * *

"The mark," Cobb points to Bruce Wayne's picture. "For the love of god, don't make the mistake of underestimating this one. He's a problem."

Eames leans back in his chair with a bored look on his face. "I adore your children, Cobb. But if you think for a second I will break into _Batman's _mind for them, you are underestimating my self-preservation instincts."

"Eames is right," Arthur's eyes are full of regret. "He will destroy us. His projections alone will be enough to cripple us. Don't make us do this, Cobb. Some minds are meant to be avoided."

"The money we will make off this," Cobb is scarily close to getting on his knees and just begging the bastards. "We will never have to work again."

"I would rather go into my retirement broke than risk a broken mind." Eames won't budge, "Fool me once, shame on me and all that. You tricked me on the Fischer job. You will never trick me again."

"How will we even do this?" Arthur points to a picture of Batman surrounded by twenty unconscious bodies. "How do you extract anything from someone like him?"

"Incept." Cobb corrects his possibly former point man. "We have to plant the idea that..."

"You want us to perform us an inception on Batman?" Eames makes what Arthur has come to know as his _Fuck My Life: Why Was I Even Born if the World is this Stupid _face and gets up. "That's it. There have to be other teams looking for a forger, someone will take me in. Pleasure working with you gentlemen," Eames gives Cobb a withering look, "Ladies," and then waves.

Ariadne waves back half-heartedly.

Arthur gets up, and starts to follow Eames, when the unimaginable (or maybe they should have seen this coming?) happens. Cobb pulls out a gun.

"Cobb," Arthur raises his hands in the air as Eames watches disbelievingly, "Don't do anything rash."

"Or stupid," Yusuf adds from his place in the corner. He has made quick work of pulling Ariadne behind him.

Cobb rests the barrel of his gun against his own temple. "That depends on you, now doesn't it."

"Fuck my life." Eames whispers from where he has been trying to place himself between Cobb and Arthur. "Fuck fuck fuck my life."

* * *

"This job depends heavily on you, Eames." Cobb has already thought this through. It's the least he can do.

"Why am I not surprised?" Eames doesn't think he will ever be able to forgive Cobb for the stunt he pulled. He doesn't even want to.

"I am begging you to reconsider this," Arthur pleads for what has to be the thousandth time. "We can take Phillipa and James with us. We can start fresh, a new life. You don't have to lose your children. There is nothing else for you here anyway."

"Batman is used to dealing with supervillains." Cobb pretends to be deaf. He is very good at being deaf. "Eccentric characters. Take the Joker for example."

"Lord have mercy," Ariadne shivers violently at the vision on the projector. "Who is that?"

"Just one example of what Batman has survived." Eames' tone drips venom. "Of the level of insanity we are dealing with."

Arthur places a soothing hand on Ariadne's arm. "Don't worry, we are not going to make you do this."

Ariadne pulls her arm away, the look in her eyes fiery. "You are gonna make me sit this one out? Like I am some kind of amateur."

"This could have been our hundredth job together," Eames gives their architect a kind smile, "and we still wouldn't let you go in. It's not your skill we are questioning, pet."

Cobb nods in agreement. It feels refreshing to agree with his teammates on something again. "You will still be doing your job. But we cannot let you enter Wayne's mind. It's not safe there."

"Ari," Yusuf leans in closer to his friend, "This guy dresses up as a giant bat and fights crime. Do you really want to share a single thought with this nutcase? The kind of mental issues he must have to do all this?"

"Sure," Ariadne crosses her arms across her chest defensively, "Leave the girl out."

"How bout this," Eames smiles brightly, "You go in and I sit this one out. Forging isn't all that hard. I will even teach you the basics." The harsh punch he receives for his attempt at humor is well-deserved, but he pouts at Arthur anyway. "That hurt."

"Good."

"We need to create a villain." Cobb ignores the heated looks which are exchanged between his point man and forger. As protective Arthur is of Eames, he is even more of Ariadne. Everyone on their team is. "Someone for Batman to fight, to crusade against. It's the way his life usually works."

"Why can't we just use the Joker?" Ariadne knows how stupid her question is the instant it leaves her mouth. The picture on screen is answer enough.

"I am a good forger, love." Eames smiles, "But even I can't pull that off."

"Joker is a highly unstable character," Cobb explains, "The kind of insanity we can't mimic, or create a plan around."

"The man is missing in action," Eames keeps the _thank fucking Christ _in his head, "I would have to study him to forge him. Mimicry without proper research of mannerisms will only alert Wayne. He knows Joker better than we ever could."

"Even if he was present," Arthur adds, "Following him around would get Eames killed. That is not the kind of man you want to stalk. Avoidance is highly recommended with this character."

"Worried about my safety?"

"Shut up, Mr. Eames."

"Save it for the honeymoon, guys." Ariadne smiles affectionately.

"Honeymoon. Sounds nice. We should do one after this job," Eames smiles at Cobb, "if we survive that is."

Deaf deaf deaf. "We also need a love interest," Cobb continues, "Someone Wayne can relate to. This story will not be complete without one."

"Great," Eames throws his arms in mock joy. "Jackpot. I get to be a villain and a heroine."

"She has to be sexy," Ariadne turns to Eames, "So breathtaking that even Bruce Wayne can't handle himself around her. He is used to sleeping with beautiful women. This girl has to blow him away."

"She has to have an alter-ego herself." Arthur says thoughtfully, "Otherwise Wayne won't identify with her. This Rachel character won't accept Batman when she wants Bruce all to herself... Our girl has to embrace our mark for his complete self. Only when he finds acceptance will he fall for her."

"Because she is divided herself," Yusuf smiles, "Brilliant."

"She has to be smooth and sleek," Ariadne pulls out her drawing pad, "like a Lamborghini. The kind of cars a man drives is representative of the woman he wants."

Yusuf pulls his chair closer to Ariadne's desk. "Someone who doesn't come from privilege like he does. He is sick and tired of rich bimbos, he needs someone who always had to fight and claw for everything she has ever had."

"Rachel always had to be rescued," Ariadne points to a picture of the Joker, holding her out of a window as Batman stands glowering in the background, with party guests sobbing and pointing. "The new girl needs to be able to fight by his side against our hypothetical villain. An ally when the world turns against him."

"Don't make her too badass," Yusuf says, "Let him rescue her once at least. We don't want his male pride challenged. Someone like him, he oozes testosterone even when he is pretending to be a playboy idiot. He wouldn't want to be emasculated."

"While our girl is being manufactured," Cobb gestures to where Yusuf and Ariadne are diligently working. The chemist is scribbling character points while Ariadne starts drawing the new heroine. "Let's work on our villain. Yusuf, we need to be under for months. Incepting Batman will take time. Please have our drugs ready."

"Sure thing boss." Yusuf makes an appreciative sound when Ariadne finishes the heroine's lips. "God, I love her already."

"Menacing," Arthur whispers, "Someone who poses a physical threat, with the possibility of even scaring Batman."

"Scare him?" Eames looks appalled, "Seduction and romance is one thing, but scaring the man..."

"You can do this," Arthur says softly, "You have scared people before."

"People, love. This man isn't people. He doesn't fear anything." Eames gestures to the image on screen frantically, "Do you not see the horrifying clown he took down without flinching?"

"Someone big," Cobb adds, "Mind games won't work. We need muscle mass."

"Did we forget the part where he was trained by something called Ra's Al Ghul as a killing machine?" Eames is actually tempted to shoot Cobb himself at this point. "Or the part where he won't use guns, because his moral code won't allow it? Do you understand the kind of giant testicles required to fight crime without guns?"

"We need to break him first," Arthur says, "cripple him even. He is in peak physical condition. Let's change that. Let's age him ten years to give ourselves an advantage."

Cobb has worked with many point men, but the kind of like-mindedness he has with Arthur is unparalleled. "I was actually thinking along the same lines."

"Well isn't that nice," Eames drawls, "Why don't you two get married after Batman rips my mind to shreds and his butler bakes it into banana bread."

"He needs a mask too," Arthur continues, "anyone we bring into Wayne's mind has to have a mask."

"Oh and it's just that easy is it?" Eames doesn't care how perfect Arthur's arse looks in those trousers, he will disagree with the man. Logic and reason is needed, damn it. "This isn't a sodding comic book. We can't keep penning mary sues and passing them off as real people."

"We can if we link them to people from Wayne's past." Cobb flips through the folder Alfred has prepared for him. "Ra's Al Ghul had a wife, but Wayne knew nothing about her. We can pass our villain off as his child."

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Eames says. He is a hair away from attacking Cobb. "About your harpy ghost problem."

"Mal will ruin everything, Cobb." Arthur shakes his head slowly. "Doesn't matter how intricate our plan is, if you know, she knows. We keep succeeding despite her by sheer luck alone..."

Cobb clears his throat. "That's why I am gonna sit this one out."

The silence that ensues is deafening.

"So," Eames stands up, menacing, "Arthur and I, alone, in the deranged vigilante's mind, while you get to stay outside, safe, with your children. You are sacrificing us."

"You can keep my share..."

"Fuck your share."

"Mr. Eames," Arthur stands in front of Cobb, protectively. "Calm down."

"We will die," Eames gives Arthur a pleading look. "Let him off himself if he wants to, I can't lose us."

"He is doing us a favor," Arthur doesn't want to fight Eames, but that's exactly what he will do to protect Cobb. "He is actually increasing our success rate, maximizing it by staying out. We don't have room for Mal on this mission."

"Then let me go in by myself." Eames grabs Arthur's shoulders, "It's not safe."

"You can't be the dreamer and the forger." Arthur smiles sadly. _Like I am going to let you do this alone. _"You must be supervised, Mr. Eames."

"We need another love interest," Yusuf announces. He is done with the character profile and is looking through the storyline Cobb has created for the mission. "Someone who can really make him lose his trust in women."

"I thought the Cat was going to do that." Ariadne says as she paints the finishing touches on her heroine's portrait. "She betrays Batman to the villain doesn't she?"

"No," Yusuf stares at the heroine, "If I know Bruce Wayne," his gaze is disturbingly lustful, "Or any man, ever, he will forgive the Cat back when she comes to aid later in the arc. We need someone who kind of normalish, who reminds him of Rachel in a sense, but later just ruins his life. This way, our message is instilled even deeper."

"We have to come up with a new woman," Ariadne concludes, "Someone vindictive and evil in secret."

"Oh," Eames stares past Arthur and Cobb, at a picture of Mal which he keeps at his desk. "I can help with that."

"Eames," Cobb starts to warn, "Don't..."

"I think it's a great idea." Arthur swallows, feeling slightly guilty, but less when he remembers the time when Mal shot him in the knee, or when she stabbed him in the back, or that time with the hacksaw, or the flamethrower. "That way, Eames doesn't have to remember two faces, with two different women, he can just create from memory."

"Damn," Yusuf whistles, "Mal would make a great villain. Someone we can seemingly trust, but then destroys us."

"Mal can be Ra's' daughter," Ariadne mumbles as she finishes work on the Cat's chin, she is actually jealous of her own creation now, "That way villain doesn't have to resemble Ra's and Eames can keep his own face behind a mask."

"Mal Al Ghul!" Yusuf shouts, but then whispers at Cobb's glare, "Or whatever name we come up with together."

* * *

Research is infinitely simpler when the people being researched are aware and consenting. Alfred and Lucius welcome Eames with open arms. Jim Gordon is another story. The man is perfect and pure and angelic. Eames doesn't like following the Commissioner around at all. It's like meeting your own foil. Very unsettling.

The day with Alfred is so easy and pleasant, that Eames, for a maddening moment, wishes that all jobs were like this, and then remembers the badass motherfucker he is supposed to incept, and mentally kicks himself in the arse.

Bruce Wayne used to go out and partake in various awesome activities such as saving Gotham or sleeping with supermodels. Rachel's death has rendered him a notorious recluse, and it's taken a complicated web of lies just to get him to leave with Lucius.

Eames just follows Alfred around, observing him in his natural habitat. He was expecting some level of self-consciousness from the butler, but the man completely forgets about the forger as instructed and goes about his day as if he is completely alone.

Arthur tags along, when it's Eames' turn to hang with Lucius, and positively salivates at Bruce's Batsuit or whatever the fuck it's called. The weapons and the tumbler, and the Batpod just add to his glee.

Arthur again, accompanies Eames on his second day with Ariadne as a new addition. They both need to learn Wayne Manor's landscape, as the dreamer and the architect.

When time comes to visit Bruce's room, Ariadne is charmed by the baby pictures. "Aww, he was the cutest baby."

"He sure was young lady," Alfred understands why Miles loves Ariadne so much. She is a complete delight. "The perfect, most angelic child."

Arthur gets an erection when they get to Bruce's closet.

"Wow," Eames stares at Arthur's groin as the point man stares dreamily at the dozens of rows of designer suits as far as the eye can see, "I am not seeing this, tell me this is not happening, love."

Alfred coughs and looks away, as Ariadne giggles uncontrollably.

Arthur doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He smiles proudly when the pinstriped suit he is currently wearing is mirrored in Bruce's wardrobe. "This guy has great taste. And I literally dress like a billionaire. What a great day."

"Careful love. We have a lady present, and you might come in your pants."

"When you leave me..." Arthur tells Eames seriously, his erection is gone as quickly as it happened, all he had to do was think of Nash naked, "I am marrying Bruce Wayne."

"Are you serious about that?" Alfred says, impressed at the young man's self-control, "Because I have been looking for a suitable bride for Master Wayne. Someone he can grow old with."

"What about two brides?" Eames asks as Ariadne doubles over with laughter, "Two ridiculously well-dressed lovers are always better than one."

"Young man," Alfred says with good humor, "I believe I said suitable bride, not a harlot."


	2. Chapter 2

When research is done (so anally that even Cobb tells Arthur to chill the fuck out), the storyline is finalized, and Eames has perfected his multiple roles, the team sits around quietly. The wait for the fateful day is far harder than the planning, and everyone is on eggshells around each other. When the day finally comes, Eames is mildly surprised Cobb has even lived to see it.

When the team arrives on the scene of the crime, Alfred and Lucius have prepared the perfect room, with the most comfortable recliners made of leather so soft, like a baby's skin. Bruce is passed out on one of them, with Yusuf working his magic.

"If we don't make it through this," Eames starts to say, but wisely shuts up at the look on Arthur's face.

"He is even more handsome in person," Ariadne gives the sleeping billionaire a soft smile, "Such a lovely face."

"We never get any compliments," Eames says as Cobb squints worryingly, "We aren't exactly unfortunate looking, pet."

"Bruce Wayne has Saito-level money," Yusuf mumbles as he checks the IV, "an Arthur-like wardrobe, Cobb-like mentality, Eames' acting chops, and my devastatingly-handsome looks. This man is our love-child."

Arthur preps the PASIV, "If I start dressing horribly because Batman raped my mind, I want someone to sue Cobb for everything he has, including his children."

"Will do, love."

"Done and done," Ariadne adds, "I love Phillipa and James."

"Can I keep James?" Yusuf asks politely, "My mother keeps asking for a grandson."

"No one is taking my kids."

"This will work." Lucius promises Alfred who is standing besides Bruce, staring at his charge with a sad mixture of love and resignation, "These people know what they are doing."

"Rachel's passing has crippled Master Wayne." Alfred places a gentle hand on the sleeping man's head. "He will never forget her."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Eames mumbles, "This inception is doomed to fail as it is."

"Remember," Cobb says to Eames as he is being hooked up, "Menacing."

* * *

Eames' first encounter with Wayne goes as expected. Not fucking well. The man almost takes his eye out with an arrow. The worst part is that there is no sign of attraction in those tired blue eyes. No dilating of pupils, or even a passing glance at the Cat's lovely figure.

Martha Wayne's pearls represent Bruce's trust in women, and their theft is supposedly the thing which triggers a series of events that ultimately ends with the man either renouncing women altogether, or falling for the lovely Cat. So far, the scales are tipping more toward the former. And kicking the man's cane and letting him fall to the marble floor, pathetically, doesn't help matters much. Probably.

When Eames comes back five minutes later as Alfred, he finds Bruce staring at the safe. Chastising the man for not sounding the alarm is one thing, but to silently watch his apathetic reaction to stolen prints is quite another. Eames can say from personal experience that a man's fingerprints can lead to a world of pain when in the wrong hands. Bruce Wayne is a bigger badass than they first thought.

Fuck.

* * *

Eames finds it challenging to keep dropping hints for Batbrain to get laid, and to do so as Alfred is doubly hard.

Bruce Wayne finds Selena Kyle on his fancy computer quickly enough but absolutely refuses to acknowledge her as a potential love interest.

"So now you're trying to set me up with a jewel thief?"

"At this point, I would set you up with a chimpanzee if I thought it would get you out in the world again."

It's becoming quite clear to Eames that the butler - while possibly Bruce Wayne's most precious person -gets taken for granted like any other parent. He has no authority over the brat.

* * *

When Arthur shows up at Wayne Manor in his police uniform, Eames almost drops his facade right there and then, which is a personal first for him. He is after all, the best forger in the business, or used to be, until his man showed up in uniform.

"I need to see Bruce Wayne." Eames thanks god not all law-enforcers are this hot, or he would have personally confessed to all his crimes and dropped to knees every time he saw a copper.

"I am sorry Mr. Wayne doesn't take unscheduled calls, even from a police officer." _Of your level of godliness._

"And if I go get a warrant in the investigation of Harvey Dent's murder and still count it as unscheduled." The bastard knows what he is doing. That gaze weakens Eames' old man knees.

Sadly, and arousingly, Wayne has more of a reaction to sexy Arthur than he has had to any sexy lady Eames has thrown his way so far. His pupils are definitely dilated this time.

John Blake is full of wide-eyed innocence, earnest and sweet, laying it on thick. His orphan story is heart-breaking and the part about Bruce Wayne visiting an orphanage (happened just yesterday, Bruce looked stunning with his bimbo) and being every orphan's dreamboat makes Eames want to pull Arthur into his lap and rock him back and forth. Judging from the look on Wayne's face, the man is facing a similar inner dilemma.

"Bruce Wayne, billionaire orphan? We used to make up stories about you man."

If Eames had known prior to this scene, that Batman would react so strongly to John Blake, he wouldn't have even bothered with the damn women. He is already imaging the two having a sexy, naked pillow fight.

"I am still a believer in the Batman, even if you are not." Arthur does his sexy walk. Eames loves that walk.

Bruce looks as if he wants John to stay and talk about his feelings some more.

"Why did you say your boys home _used to be _funded by the Wayne foundation."

"Because the money stopped. Might be time to get some fresh air, start paying attention to the details. Some of those details might need your help."

That said, Arthur saunters out, giving Eames a polite nod. "Sir."

Eames has to think of Nash to avoid getting a stiffy in front of his supposed son.

After inquiring about the villain, which turns out is the perfect Batbait, Bruce asks about his money. And what's even more worrying is that he reacts most strongly to the prospect of losing profit and being poor.

* * *

Eames paints a terrifying picture as Bruce's doctor. He attacks Bruce's knees, his elbows, his kidneys, and gives his brain some concussive damage. The idea is to intimidate Bruce, to ingrain physical flaws in him. The man ignores Eames' speech and jumps out the window like a boss.

Eames is suddenly even more afraid of Batbrain if possible.

* * *

"Batman wasn't needed anymore, we won." Bruce whispers sexily.

Eames doesn't know how he is supposed to complete this job without dream sexing Bruce Wayne. This isn't going to work out. "Batman has to come back." Jim Gordon says, pained.

"What if he doesn't exist anymore?" Bruce places a hand on Eames' before he leaves. It takes all of Eames' strength to not pull the man on top of himself.

* * *

"Bruce Wayne, at a charity ball."

"Miss Tate."

Eames channels Mal to perfection. The woman was just the right shade of condescending to come off as smoking hot.

Bruce Wayne does that thing where he says something stupid but his eyes glitter like ice blue shards of pure, concentrated intelligence.

"Actually this is my party, Mr. Wayne."

Cue sad kicked puppy _I said something stupid but I don't know any better_ look. Eames says something bitchy and Mal-like.

"That's very generous of you." Bruce whispers.

Eames goes into an even bitchier rant and tops the whole thing off with a _Have a good evening Mr. Wayne._ Bruce is left standing looking sexily chastised.

* * *

Eames is dancing with a particularly ugly projection when Wayne thankfully takes over. Finally, some tension between Batman and Cat.

"Yeah, who are you pretending to be?"

"Bruce Wayne, eccentric billionaire."

After showing deep interest in the ugly projection's wife's diamonds, he is threatened by Bruce. "You don't want any of these folks realizing you are more than just a social climber."

More sexy dialogue, and then the Cat attack's Bruce's wealth and pretends to be very poor herself. "You don't get to judge just because you were born in the Master bedroom of Wayne Manor."

When Bruce suggests to 'start fresh' there is a worrying moment, when every single projection is suddenly staring at Eames in a heart-stopping, disapproving way. "Everything sticks."

"Is that how you justify stealing?" The projections go back to their own business as Bruce asks. Somewhere along the line, he even brags about being friends with Batman.

"You think all this can last? There is a storm coming, Mr. Wayne." Eames knows it's difficult to be scary when you are a sexy lady thief, but he plays the part to perfection. In a way, the Cat's mannerisms are mostly copied from Arthur, when he is being seductive and dangerous. Not that he would ever admit it to the hot young cop. He likes his testicles where they are.

"You sound like you are looking forward to it."

"I am adaptable." Eames doesn't even know where that came from but he likes it. Flawless dialogue.

Predictably, Eames loses his shiny new pearls; he makes do with Bruce's valet ticket and after a kiss, high tails it out of there. It's feels awesome to steal cars, always, but the expression on Bruce's face is so satisfying, that Eames almost quits right there and then. It feels somehow, that the mission is accomplished. After all, womankind can't be trusted when they steal your orgasm inducing cars, can they?

When Eames shows up take Bruce home, the bastard has this blank look on his face. Eames has to stop himself from yelling, "How do I get your attention, you fucking bastard. Fuck you I am sexy."

Instead he says, "Don't worry Master Wayne, takes a little time to get back in the swing of things." _You frigid bitch. I hope you die alone._

* * *

"Bruce Wayne, as I live and breathe. What brings you out of cryosleep Mr. Wayne?" Being Lucius Fox is awesome because he wears a bowtie. Eames vows to wear bowties for the rest of his life if he survives this. And Arthur will remain in uniform. As god is Eames' witness, Arthur will never wear anything else again.

Bruce tries to blames Eames for losing his money, and Eames responds with _bitch please, that clean energy crap is all on you. Turn the machine on._

Bruce refuses, because it's a bomb. Eames uses this opportunity to push Mal on Bruce. "She's smart, and quiet lovely."

Nothing. Mal used to walk in the room and give Cobb an erection. What the fuck is Wayne's problem? He's crazy, she's the reason the word exists. It's a match made in heaven.

As Bruce tries to remove his sexy body from Lucius' office and do a slutty cane walk out of the room Eames quickly says, "Anything else?"

"No, why?"

"These conversations used to end with an unusual request."

"I retired."

_Atta boy. Feel your limitations Bruce darling. _"Well, let me show you some stuff anyway... Just for old time's sake."

The creepy plane/helicopter thing Ariadne and Cobb have cooked up together scares the jeepies creepies out of Eames but the lustful look Bruce gives it would rival the one Eames gives Arthur, or how Arthur looks at a fresh, clean, perfectly tailored suit.

"Oh now you are just showing off."

_Yes dear, it's how we arouse Batbrains. _Eames gives Bruce the speech he has memorized, not really understanding or caring what the fuck he is saying.

"What's it called?" Bruce asks with wonder and love in his eyes. Fondness, like thinking of a lost childhood. Eames almost runs screaming from the giant room.

"I just took to calling it _The Bat." Now fix the damn autopilot and make me a sandwich. _"And yes Mr. Wayne, it does come in black." Seems to be the right thing to say cause Bruce lets out an unusually sexy chuckle.

"Takes a better mind than mine to fix it."

"Better mind?"

"I was trying to be modest." _There is a first time for everything. _"A less busy mind." Bruce adjusts himself sexily.

"Yours," Eames throws in for good measure, in case the pretty brain missed the message.

* * *

_Pain should not be this arousing. _Eames thinks as Bruce makes sex faces and grunts like an animal. The leg thing hurts. Eames is torn between holding Bruce to his chest and molesting him, or congratulating himself. _You might actually survive a fight with Batbrain! We have totally fucked him up._

"Is it really painful?" Alfred asked, concerned for his baby.

"You are very welcomed to try it Alfred." Don't molest him. Don't molest him. Don't do it.

"Happy watching, thank you sir." I am gonna tape you and bring it home. Arthur and I can watch it when we have sex.

And then Bruce does that thing where he kicks the wall and it breaks under the strain of the kick. His hair in sexy bangs around that pretty face. Eames wonders what it would be like if Bruce and Arthur wrestled, naked. Who would win that epic fight of sexiness?

Eames is ready to bait Batbrain with the perfect mix of reverse psychology and fear. "If you are seriously considering going back out there, you should hear the rumors surrounding Bane."_ What an awesome name for a villain._ Eames pats himself on the back.

The prison story is scary. Naturally Arthur thought that one up. Disturbingly, during sex.

"Sometimes, a man rises from the darkness." Eames almost squeals in glee when the Batsuit rises as he is saying it. What perfect delivery and timing of dialogues! "Sometimes, the pit sends something back."

"He was trained by Ra's Al Ghul. Your mentor." At this point, either killer projections will slaughter Eames, or Batbrain will look even more adorably confused. Thankfully it's the latter.

"Bane was a member of the League of Shadows."

"And then he was excommunicated. And any man too extreme for Ra's Al Ghul is not to be trifled with." Ooooooh. Batbrain looks suitably offended. Eames is very very afraid for his life.

"I didn't know I was known for trifling with criminals."

_No you are not, I love you please don't kill me. I am being forced into this. Don't hurt me. Will you be my boyfriend?_ "That was then. You think you can just strap up you leg and put the mask back on. It still won't make you what you were." _I am not questioning your badassery. Please just forget Rachel so we can get out of here._

"If this man is everything that you say he is, then the city needs me."

Eames is delighted at the sheer sense of responsibility in that tone. _Yes dear, you must dress up in tight Kevlar and fight like a motherfucker._

"The city needs Bruce Wayne, your resources, your knowledge. It doesn't need your body, or your life. That time is past." Eames doesn't have experience being a parent, but he channels his protectiveness for James, Phillipa, hell even Ariadne. He wouldn't want them to face the monstrosity he is about to become.

"You are afraid that if I go back out there, I'll fail."

"No, I am afraid, that you want to."


	3. Chapter 3

On his first day as villain Arthur gives him a deep, reassuring kiss. "You can do this."

Eames doesn't like the way he looks in these clothes, the coat makes him feel like a dictator, like something less human. He doesn't like his body mass, his strength. It's frightening. He is willing to promise anything away at this moment. As long as he doesn't have to do this.

Arthur applies the mask, lovingly. "Scare the life out of him, Mr. Eames. Put the fear of God in him."

"Please." Eames's eyes are heartbreaking. "Let's not do this. This isn't me." His normal voice sounds odd through the mask, unusual and frankly... dumb.

"Hazards of the business," Arthur looks ravishing in that uniform, "We have to see this through. We are in too deep."

Eames knows how important this is to Cobb, to Arthur, but he just doesn't care at this point. "I can't be this, I can't..."

"Please." Arthur's loyalty to Cobb, to his children, will have Eames killed. "Do this for me."

"I am so whipped." Eames rests his forehead against Arthur's shoulder, mask and all. "You own my manhood, darling. Treat it well."

"Oh I intend to," Arthur promises, "Not only will I acquire this uniform when we wake up, I will personally seduce Mr. Wayne and bring him home with us."

"I love you."

"Good luck, Mr. Eames."

* * *

"Okay, lose the helmet, we need faces for camera."

Eames doesn't like hitting women, but Bane has no such qualms. He will trample anyone and anything in his path. Wayne's projections go down like mannequins.

Eames' fake companions shoot up the place. Projections form scared shitless piles.

His gaze is so menacing that a wet stain forms on one man's pants. Eames politely ignores him and walks up to a relatively composed individual.

"This is a stock exchange, there is no money in this..."

"Then why are you people here?" Bane grabs the man and bangs his head against a desk.

Walking around as if he owns the place, Eames witnesses the first dream in history, where projections are too afraid to defend against the clear intruder.

By the time sirens are heard in the distance, people are actually starting to sob in the corner, where they think Bane can't see them.

As planned, Eames lets the 'hostages' go out first, and bursts outside suddenly, in a group of motorcycles. He wishes he had stuffed something in the mouth of the projection he is using as a shield. It won't stop screaming.

He passes Arthur, who gives him a stern look as he escapes with Wayne's subconscious hunting him.

Bruce Wayne's mind is horrifically organized, so much so, that Eames has reason to believe the bugger has been trained by an extractor, despite Alfred's multiple reassurances that _Master Wayne isn't even aware all this exists._

Ordinarily, the entire city should chase Eames down like a dog and kill him in cold blood – like white blood cells attacking a virus – but in Wayne's world (ha) only police cars are allowed to chase criminals. All other projections scramble to get out of the way, giving them wide berth.

It feels so real that Eames almost falls off the bike, checking his totem.

Batman appears on his pod when they are in the tunnel, and Eames watches from a relatively safe distance, as the lights suddenly disappear as if from existence.

In a twist of events mind-fuckingly psychotic and bizarre, Bruce Wayne's projections forget all about Eames, and start hunting Bruce Wayne himself.

Even Arthur looks surprised as GCPD turns on Batman. His car has been commandeered by a head honcho who insists that Arthur drive him around everywhere.

"I am going to do something Jim Gordon never could." WhatsHisName tells Arthur.

"What's that?" Arthur asks, stunned.

"I am going to take down the Batman."

At this point, Arthur wants to explain to the man that his inherent responsibility as a projection is to protect Batman, not turn on him like a little bitch.

Arthur drives recklessly, like he usually does in dreams and follows the mark along with everyone else. "So what about the armed robber?" He casually suggests to the buffoon. He is rewarded with a disbelieving look.

"Stay on the Batman," He orders the GCPD.

"He's getting away," Arthur pathetically gestures to Eames who is rapidly disappearing.

"Who do you want to catch? Some robber, or the son-of-a-bitch who killed Harvey Dent?"

Arthur fights the urge to groan. Again with Harvey fucking Dent. Bruce Wayne's mind is obsessed with the man. His subconscious keeps trying to punish him, and has actually managed to somehow turned on him.

Eames makes what has to be his cleanest and easiest escape, ever. Batman stands, surrounded by his own projections, stunned. He looks every way and finally uses a ramp to propel himself ahead of the officers.

Arthur is actually kind of relieved when he hears of Batman's escape. He doesn't think he can handle the sight of a man being killed by his own projections. He isn't ready for something so insane, even in his line of work.

"He's as dumb as he dresses."

Arthur keeps his face carefully blank.

It's a breathtaking vision when dozens and dozens of cars force Batman to turn into an alleyway which is supposedly a dead end.

"Like a rat in a trap, gentlemen." WhatsHisFace starts to prepare his speaker phone, when it happens.

"We might have the wrong animal there, sir."

Arthur stands, with his jaw dropped in surprise, as the Batman flies off in a gloriously bizarre contraption.

After Batman has escaped, Arthur walks up to WhatsHisFace and asks, "Sure it was him?" He gets a speaker phone to the chest for his efforts but it's worth it.

* * *

"What the fuck was that?" Eames sounds panicked. Arthur has never heard the man respond this way to anything before.

"Stay calm." Arthur whispers into the phone. "We can handle this."

"We are not safe here." Eames whimpers, honest to god whimpers into the phone. "He isn't even safe here. We need to rescue Bruce Wayne."

"From his own subconscious?" Arthur says, amused. "Even we can't pull that off, Mr. Eames."

"They betrayed him. His own projections betrayed him. I don't know about you, love. But I have never seen that before. Even schizophrenics don't have projections that turn on them. Alzheimer's' victims don't have projections that turn on them."

"Now we can see why Mr. Pennyworth was so adamant we take this mission." Arthur keeps an eye on his 'fellow cops.' "Harvey and Rachel's death has affected him so deeply that his own subconscious is out to attack him. He is one hair trigger away from a complete mental breakdown."

"Do we want to go ahead with all this, then? His psyche is the most fragile we have ever seen in this business, and we are experts, veterans. Who knows how he will respond to this plan. He is more in danger than both of us combined. We can break his mind. We aren't even prepared for someone like him."

Arthur smiles pleasantly at his assigned 'partner' and shakes his head when he is offered a doughnut. Dream or not, he needs to watch his figure. "He needs help. If we leave him now, he will break himself."

"We are continuing with the plan."

"For now. Think of it as a learning opportunity, Mr. Eames."

"We aren't going to make it, love. _He_ isn't even going to make it. He doesn't even have the feeble defenses normally sick minds have."

Arthur looks around the squad room, at the chaos around him. "Wayne's mind is organized, in a definitively objective way. And yet there is no solace in this world for him, anywhere. No basic defenses. He is so harsh with himself. Even his projections, which are usually a person's last defense against intrusion, won't forgive him, or defend him."

"I can't believe I am saying this, but I feel sorry for the person we are trying to mind rape."

"Me too."

* * *

"Where is it?" The Cat whispers threateningly.

"The Clean Slate? John Daggett may not be one of Eames' prettiest creations, but he is a damn fine actor. "Where you type in someone's name, Date of Birth, and in a few minutes, they are gone? On every database on earth. Sound a little too good to be true?"

Doesn't take long for the pawns to surround the Cat, Eames tries to look suitably alarmed.

"Stay back," The Cat holds Daggett hostage. "I'm not bluffing."

"They know." The dark knight arrives just in time to save the damsel. Eames looks up. Batman is elegantly perched on a ledge, "They just don't care."

Sexy fighting ensues, Batman and Cat side by side. Daggett starts to back away, as programmed by Eames.

The Cat tries to help Batman by shooting one of the pawns, her gun is confiscated, as Batman pushes the thug aside, as if he is made of paper.

"You gotta be kidding me." Eames always thought that the _no guns _rule was something of a rumor. No one can be actually stupid enough to fight crime, in Gotham of all places, without guns. He clearly underestimated the man who likes to dress up as a giant bat.

"No guns, no killing."

"Where's the fun in that?" Eames sneers and turns to another thug, and damn his feet hurt, fighting in heels is so not a good idea.

A rain of bullets ensues. Batman thankfully ceases fighting. He has enough good sense, surprisingly, to run in the opposite direction and jump in the Bat. The Cat follows and Eames pretends to hesitate a little, but of course, joins Batman a millisecond later.

"My mother warned me about getting in cars with strange men." Eames throws out just for fun.

"This isn't a car." Batman corrects Eames, and they rise a few seconds later.

A well-placed, dummy silhouette of Bane watches them as they fly away. Eames is insanely glad that Batman chose to escape and not engage in a fight with an empty, yet ominous, pawn pretending to be Bane.

* * *

Eames doesn't say much during the flight, he isn't sure he could if he wanted to. It's amazing to fly in something so sleek, so impossibly awesome. Eames has ridden in almost every type of car, plane, or helicopter known to man, but it's nice to know there are still things out there which can impress him. He hopes that when (and if) Bruce wakes up, he has his people make this fancy flight thingy a reality.

"See you around." Eames says as he crawls out of the thing in those damn, painful, awful heels. He has had Batman drop him off at a random building.

"You are welcome."

"I had it under control." Eames actually means that. If Batman hadn't shown up, the pawns would have backed off, probably...

"Those weren't street thugs, they were trained killers. I saved your life."

Any other instance and Eames would have gladly rewarded Batbrain with a blowjob. His feet are in too much pain for that to happen right now.

"In return, I need to know what you did with Bruce Wayne's fingerprints."

"Wayne wasn't kidding about a powerful friend. I sold his prints to Daggett."

Batman looks pissed. Too bad he has too much honor to hit a woman.

After hinting at the stock market drama, Eames disappears. He needs to take these shoes off now or he will never be able to walk again, ever, in a dream or otherwise.

* * *

It's a testament to how good of an architect Ariadne already is that Eames gets back to the cave twenty minutes before Batman through the secret passageways she has designed. It gives him a chance to relax his feet and practice his elegant English gentlemanliness.

When the Bat flies through the waterfall majestically, Eames groans and stands his aching body up with a very real difficulty. "I see through the television coverage that you have got your taste for wanton destruction back."

Wayne looks gorgeous without the cowl, truly like a dark knight, with his cape billowing behind him. Eames knees are weak for reasons other fighting in six inch heels.

"I retrieved this." He hands his find to Eames carefully.

"Aren't the police supposed to be investigating them?"

"They don't have the tools to analyze it."

"They would if you gave 'em to them."

Now this situation should be enough to alert Wayne about the lack of reality of everything around him. The real Alfred has enough sense to know that Bruce would never quit being Batman. Especially when someone like Bane is loose. The fact that someone as intelligent and observant as Wayne has no idea he is dreaming, or has any projections to defend him, _scares _Eames even more than he already is.

"One man's tool is another man's weapon."

"In your mind, perhaps there aren't any things you can't turn into a weapon."

"Alfred enough, the police weren't getting it done."

"Perhaps they might have if you hadn't made a side show of yourself."

There is defiance in Bruce's eyes. Like any child would against a parent. Eames feels terrible for doing this to Bruce, to take away the one person he has in this large, lonely world. His only solace is that it's a dream. But the pain in Bruce's eyes is real. The one person who is supposed to be understanding, but isn't.

"You said he was excommunicated." Bruce says staring at the stock market footage, after Eames is done building up Bane – commenting on his speed and agility.

"By Ra's Al Ghul."

Eames watches those eyes for any hint of understanding. Any sign that the bloke realizes how unrealistic, how _not true _all of this is. But nothing. Any man who lives in a world of superheroes and supervillains loses the fine line between dream and wakefulness. A flying elephant could appear out of thin air, and Bruce would accept it. Like he does every crazy thing he deals with on a daily basis.

"Bane is just a mercenary; we need to find out what he's up to."

Eames wants to shake Bruce, to question his mentality (or what tattered remains are left of it). To haul him to a giant team of psychiatrists, knowing it would be useless. This man is so fucked up; he makes Dominick Cobb look well-adjusted.

"I'll give this to Mr. Fox, but no more." Eames doesn't want to do this, but he has to follow the plan. His survival, _Bruce's survival_, depends on it.

"I'll sew you up, I'll set your bones, but I won't bury you. I've buried enough members of the Wayne family."

"You are leaving me?" Bruce says, as if he expects it. He has seen this coming. Eames makes a note to talk to Alfred about this particular insecurity.

"You are not Batman anymore. You have to find another way." Eames pleads, finding himself actually hoping that instead of the reverse psychology nonsense, Bruce will listen for once, and give this vigilante crap up.

"Alfred, Rachel died, knowing that we had decided to be together. That is my life beyond the cave. I can't just move on. She didn't. She couldn't..." And here it is. This raw, angry nerve, just bared for Eames to see.

Eames explains to Bruce, about the letter Alfred burned. He almost wants to tell Bruce how relieved Alfred was that he didn't have to confess himself, leaving Eames to do it. "She chose Harvey Dent over you. And what if, to spare you pain, I burned that letter."

"How dare you use Rachel, to try to stop me." Real anger. True anger. Eames has seen it before, on human beings, but to witness it on someone so much larger than life is surreal.

"Maybe it's time we all stop trying to outsmart the truth, and let it have its day."

It's hard not to cry when faced with such real agony. Eames has planned and memorized and observed and stalked for this role. But nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the very real tears which fall in this dream. How hard Eames pleads for Bruce to understand. "It means, losing someone that I have cared for since I first heard his cries echo through this house."

"Goodbye Alfred." Watching him walk away, Eames has to think of much happier times to not break into sobs.

This would be why Eames hates his profession. The dark side. To truly become a person, lose himself in a role so deeply. Eames will feel Alfred's pain echo through his heart until the day he dies, that much he is sure of, if nothing else.


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey," Arthur opens his door to a troubled Eames.

Eames might have dropped the mask, but the shock of losing Bruce is so profound, he almost passes out. His already weak knees buckle, and Arthur finds himself supporting his boyfriend. "Jesus, Eames."

"We can't do this." Eames whispers in Arthur's collarbone, once he is deposited on John Blake's couch. "I can't do this to him. We need to stop."

"He will destroy you otherwise." Arthur knows he has to be ruthless; to compensate for Eames' emotional reaction to Bruce's situation. "Remember? We have aged him, taken away his family, his money. We need to truly break him to rebuild him."

"I won't do this."

_And this is why I can never be a forger. _Arthur thinks to himself. _What man in his right mind keeps putting himself through this?_

All these roles, these characters, and their emotional drama. Arthur worries for a second if Eames' can truly do this. If the mission needs to be stopped to protect the man's mind from bleeding out on the floor.

And then Eames' hand starts creeping up Arthur's thigh, and that train of thought vanishes as quickly as it happened. "Arthur." A soft voice whispers.

"I'm right here." Arthur places a kiss to the back of Eames' head.

"Thank you for that, darling. I am starting to think going about this thing solo would be maniacally stupid."

Arthur rolls his eyes, "I cannot believe you thought you could be the dreamer. What nonsense."

"I admitted I was wrong, let it go."

A ghost of a smirk crosses Arthur's face. Even in a dream, having Eames here, solid, in his arms is a deep reassurance. There is little to worry about when they are pressed together like this, so close. Leaning his head down further, the point man presses his lips across the back of Eames' neck.

Even drowsy and tired, Eames can tell Arthur has something on his mind. "What is it, pet?"

"Tell me what happened." Arthur orders. "What made you break down like this?"

Eames keeps his face stubbornly pressed in Arthur's neck, breathing in John Blake's comforting scent. "Nothing, love. The usual character bleed. Alfred cherishes that brat of his more than anything in the universe. Separation pains and all that."

"You are going to have to lie better than that, Mr. Eames."

The downside of having a soul-mate, Eames has discovered, is that lying to him is completely and utterly impossible.

"Tell me." Soft, plush lips press against Eames' neck in repetition. "Share with the rest of the class."

"There is no need for explanations, sweetheart." Eames burrows deeper and deeper into Arthur's embrace, so much so that the slighter man is pressed against the back of the couch. He doesn't care. Eames' greatest desire is to disappear in Arthur's arms forever, never to return again.

Arthur always feels so stripped with Eames in his arms. So naked and raw. He wonders if the feeling is reciprocated. If Eames, someone with so many personalities just waiting to manifest, feels real when with Arthur.

Eames knows Arthur is refraining from asking more questions, and for that he is thankful. And that makes him want to answer even more. Keeping secrets from Arthur is becoming increasingly and distressingly difficult. Pretty soon, they are going to be one of those couples who scare the world with their over-familiarity.

"It hurts," Eames tries to explain somehow, "To leave him. So alone in the world. To damage him like this. It feels bad."

"Sound like more than just character bleed." Arthur says.

Eames breathes warmly into the pale, elegant neck. He notes, proudly, that it causes a small shiver to run through the lean body he is pressed into. "He is a good person."

He pauses at the tensing he feels within Arthur's body. "I know we are professionals, love. But when you enter a man's mind, it's impossible not to fall in emotional traps. We forgers are especially vulnerable to such weaknesses."

"This is a job, Eames." Arthur holds Eames just as tightly as he is being held. "We cannot get attached. Not when there are such grave risks involved."

"I know," is mumbled petulantly, "I just want him to stop hurting."

"Me too," Arthur adds immediately, squeezing the forger tight, "Which is why it's important that we remain objective. It's the only way we can truly help him."

"He's batshit crazy," Eames laughs out, "Pun intended. But he does the best he can. He wants to save this city, protect it. Watch over it. No matter what it costs him. He has lost so much, and we are taking the rest away..."

"This is a dream, Mr. Eames." Arthur strokes the man's hair soothingly, "In case you are forgetting, none of this is happening."

"But the emotional trauma he is suffering is very real, darling. Believe me. We are causing a lot of damage here."

Arthur decides to drop the matter – for now. His patience is infinite when dealing with Eames' moods, the nature of a forger's boyfriend. He is willing to wait and discuss this another time, when Eames isn't suffering from a painful character bleed.

The hold Eames' has around Arthur's body is extremely constrictive in nature, but the point man manages to press his lips to the forgers.

When Eames doesn't respond, Arthur pulls back and stares questioningly. Before he can ask any questions, he is pulled into another kiss.

Pliant, soft, Arthur's lips part at the first flick of Eames' tongue. With a contented sigh, Eames licks into the warm, wet cavern and tastes the sweetness he has been craving for so long. He finds himself falling into a sensual haze, the kind which makes him hallucinate bright sunny days, and sparkling, star studded nights.

Arthur starts to return the kiss with equal enthusiasm. He knows what Eames likes; they are that point in their relationship, where experiments, while fun and nice, are now unnecessary. They know how to push each other's buttons.

Grunting into the kiss, Eames attacks Arthur's mouth with even more need. There is no better feeling than having his man right here, in his arms, where he belongs.

Arthur lets Eames feel every contour of his mouth. His moans are greedily consumed, and when Eames feels satisfied enough him breathe, he pulls back.

Arthur takes a deep breath, but isn't quite ready to lose the feeling of Eames' lips. They are addictive that way. Lacing his fingers behind the man's head, Arthur draws Eames back, and urges him to continue the kiss. "Don't stop on my account Mr. Eames."

Eames claims Arthur's lips again. In a stunning and upsetting realization, the forger realizes that in this dream, as John Blake, Arthur isn't wearing the marks Eames has placed on his skin. There is no evidence whatsoever, that Eames has ever been inside this perfect body, or ever even touched that perfect skin.

Arthur may be wearing Eames' marks, but John Blake is completely unblemished.

When their prolonged kiss ends, Eames stares into Arthur's eyes. "Any particular reason you are not wearing my love bites?"

"John Blake is a single cop," Arthur smirks in very provoking way. "Why should he have love bites?"

"It seems there was an error in the storyline, love. We need to fix it."

"I mean it, Eames." Arthur grunts as he is pressed against the couch again, "I can't change my appearance like you. Don't leave marks where people can see."

"It's as if you want me to be jealous, darling."

"You are the one cohabitating with the gorgeous billionaire. If anyone should be jealous..."

"He still loves her," Eames gives Arthur a pained look. "I don't think he can ever move on, with anyone, we are wasting our time."

"If I die," Arthur stares back into Eames' eyes, "Let me go, Mr. Eames. Don't even let me be a projection."

"It doesn't work that way, pet." Eames smiles at the naiveté of the well-meaning order.

"Don't let me become Mal," Arthur pleads, "Or Rachel. Move on. Forget me."

"And while I am at it," Eames chuckles, "Why don't I just end world hunger and travel to the Sun?"

Arthur struggles to keep his face expressionless. "Eames..."

"If I die," Eames's voice is so cross, that Arthur's breathe catches, "I want you to join me. Kill yourself. We can both be projections together."

It's an angry, unreasonable thing to say, but it makes Arthur smile agreeably. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Eames. Your request is much easier to comply with than mine."

"Oh god," Eames lets out a wounded sound as Arthur spreads his thighs enticingly to accommodate his form. "Why are you so fucking stupid, darling. Why would you even say that?"

"Spending so much time with you is bad for my wits."

Eames groans as the lower half of their bodies are pressed together, their erections rubbing against each other. It's easy to become so confused with lust when all he wants to do is go to John Blake's bathroom, and scream at the top of his lungs.

Arthur is on a mission of sexual healing, and quickly eases their arousals away from all clothing. Running his hands down Eames' stomach, he whispers, "You lose weight far too quickly."

"You want me big?" Eames asks disbelievingly. "You are actually into the villain thing, aren't you, you fiend."

Arthur's hands end their journey at the hem of Eames' ugly as sin t-shirt. "There is a certain charm to the ensemble, I must admit."

"We can't," Eames begs, "If character bleed is this bad with Alfred, I can't even imagine..."

"I trust you."

"You really aren't very bright are you?" Eames gives Arthur a watery smile. "The whole thing is a facade isn't it?"

"I just pretend to be intelligent because I know you are into the whole brainy brunette thing."

"I can put on any act you want, love." Eames says, dead serious. "But Bane is off limits. That's not something I am ever going to budge on. It's a safety issue."

"Safety issue?" Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Do I need to list the places and the times we have had sex before? And the fact that this is all a dream?"

"No." Eames shakes his head, something wild and unexplainable in his eyes, "If you make me do this I will leave you, that's a promise."

Arthur is stunned. Bruce's projections turning on him is now the second most shocking thing Arthur has ever witnessed.

"You and Bane," Eames doesn't care how pathetic he looks or feels right now, "are never going to even be in the same room together. Fuck," the forger thinks of the man he left behind, alone at the mansion, "I don't even want to let Bruce near him."

Arthur feels cold dread wash over him.

"Please don't make me." Eames whispers, small, and Arthur immediately pulls him back into his arms. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Arthur refuses to lose the only chance at a happy ending he has ever had over a sexual fantasy. "It won't happen, Mr. Eames. Safety first, always."

"I am sorry," Eames whispers into perfect pale skin. "I love you."

"Maybe I should not get the uniform," Arthur says, warmed by the confession, "Maybe that's too dangerous."

Eames gives Arthur a horrified look. "Darling."

"I will still acquire the uniform, Mr. Eames." Arthur gives his man a reassuring smile. "I won't go back on my word."

"You better not." Eames sniffles like a child. "It's the only thing I have to look forward to right now."

"Not the only thing," Arthur whispers seductively, as his hand reaches between them to cup Eames' groin.

Bane may end up being Arthur's most ultimate fantasy, but that's all he will ever be, a fantasy. If Eames doesn't feel comfortable, then it's never happening. Ever. Arthur won't put his love through that.

* * *

Eames rings the doorbell and fights the urge to wince when Bruce appears in his robe. Watching a person of his wealth answer his own door is like watching Arthur wearing an off-the-rack suit. Abnormal. It's even more upsetting to have to explain to the man, that his riches have up and disappeared in a matter of moments.

"Long-term, we might be able to prove fraud, but for now, you are completely broke, and Wayne Enterprises is about to fall into the hands of John Daggett." Lucius tells Bruce.

As Bruce stares at the newspaper with shock on his elegant features, Eames wants to confess to the whole damn mission. _How this is supposed to help you is beyond me at this point._

"The weapons... We can't let Daggett get his hands on Applied Sciences."

"Applied Sciences is all locked up and off the books. The Energy Project however is a different story."

"Miranda Tate..."

Eames nods and winces as he thinks of the Mal-shaped terror.

"We need to convince the board to get behind her. Let's show her the reactor."

* * *

Being Mal is sadly, the easiest out of all the roles. Eames likes feeling so elegant, and sophisticated. To step into the skin he met all those years ago. When he first met Cobb's lovely wife, and stared deep into her eyes as she excitedly explained her vision, her passion, Eames remembers thinking: _God, if a freak like Cobb can find someone like her, there is most certainly hope for me. _And then Arthur had walked in a few minutes later, all sharp lines and frightening brilliance, and Eames had fallen so hard, he still feels the ache to this day.

As the empty dummy Lucius explains the emergency flood, Eames says, "Is Bruce Wayne really that paranoid?"

"I thought you might like to see what your investment built."

Miranda accuses Bruce of hiding Gotham's only chance at a clean, fossil-free energy source.

Bruce argues that the damn thing is a bomb. "Miranda, if it were operational, the danger to Gotham would be too great."

"Would it make you feel better to know that the Russian scientist died in a plane crash six months ago?" _Isn't that just marvellously convenient, darling?_

"Someone will figure out how to make this power source into a nuclear weapon."

"I need you, to take control, of Wayne Enterprises and this reactor." Bruce says as dummy Lucius stands in the background, looking pretty.

Eames marvels at Bruce's ability to trust a complete stranger. He remembers when he was that open, that vulnerable, possibly a thousand years ago. It's all gone now – the dream-sharing business will do that to you.

"To do what with it?"

"Nothing. Until we can guarantee its safety."

"And if we can't?"

"Decommission it. Flood it."

"Destroy the world's best chance for a sustainable future?" Eames looks suitably appalled. Arthur would have burst out laughing if he was here.

"If the world is not ready, yes." Bruce looks so genuine. He is willing to sacrifice everything for his city. Lay down his life for it, go bankrupt for it. Such valor is refreshing to see in this day and age.

"Bruce if you are out to save the world, you have to start trusting it." _Yes dear, trust the world, stop trusting women._

"I am trusting you."

"It doesn't count, you have no choice." _We haven't given you any._

"I could have flooded this chamber at any point in the last three years, I am choosing to trust you... Please..."

_Your wish is my command, darling._

* * *

When Bruce enters the board room, he is assaulted by John Daggett. Eames is really starting to hate the bugger, even if he is just doing what he has been programmed to do.

"I'm afraid he has a point, Mr. Wayne." Lucius kicks Bruce out as soon as he has settled in.

Dummy Miranda watches quietly and nods when Bruce gives her a meaningful look before stepping out.

* * *

Arthur waits patiently. He is actually starting to like his uniform, and judging from Eames' reaction to it; he might actually have to get a job in law enforcement if they survive this job.

When Bruce Wayne steps outside, his projections attack him like vultures, asking all kinds of probing questions. Arthur envies the kind of rich upbringing it must take to watch your ridiculously expensive car get towed and not even blink at the sight.

"Looks like you need a ride, huh?" John Blake walks up to Bruce and gestures to his car. It feels good when Wayne follows him, trustingly.

Maybe Eames is not the only person suffering from character bleed.

"When you started, why the mask?" Arthur asks Wayne's tense profile.

"To protect the people closest to me." Bruce starts explaining.

"But you were a loner right, no family?"

Arthur knows this man's entire back story, and yet doesn't know him at all. He is like a damn onion, and new layers keep revealing themselves at every step.

"There are always people you care about, you just don't realize how much, until they are gone." Rachel, Alfred, slowly steadily. Everyone just leaves him.

Arthur wants to know what makes Bruce Wayne tick, what possessed him to dress up and take the law into his own hands.

"The idea was to be a symbol."

Arthur understands why Eames is so enamoured with this man. It's like looking in damn mirror. Only Arthur is too pragmatic, even the dream-sharing business hasn't taken his sense of realism away. And of course, the thought to costume up, and fight villains never really occurred to him. Arthur is creative enough to initiate a kick in zero gravity, but he can never see himself in Bruce Wayne's shoes.

"Batman, can be anybody; that was the point."

Arthur wants to laugh in Bruce's face. _There is only one Batman._

Bruce inquires about Bane, of course, Arthur gives him nothing, and instead, delivers him to Eames.

* * *

Eames is pleasantly surprised when Bruce comes to see him. Well, not really, but he still likes it when people visit.

"Yeah, it's not much, but it's more than you got right now." Selena welcomes Bruce into her humble abode.

"Actually, they are letting me keep the house."

_Of course they are, love. Homelessness is where we draw the line. _"The rich don't even go broke the same as rest of us, huh?"

"My powerful friend might hope to change your mind about leaving."

The sheer realism of this dream is starting to become annoying. Now that Batbrain has lost everything, he is turning to the very women he was taking absolutely no notice of at the beginning of the dream. Alfred and financial security are no longer an option, so Bruce turns to Mal and the Cat.

"And how would you do that?"

"By giving you what you want."

Right, the Clean Slate crap. Sound a little too good to be true?

"He wants to meet, tonight."

"Why?" ..._Are you so stupid? What did your parents do to you? Oh right..._

"He needs to find Bane. He says you know how."

It doesn't make any sense. How can a crime-fighting billionaire playboy retain such innocence while practicing said crime-fighting in Gotham? Regardless, Eames follows the plan to the letter. "Tell him I'll think about it."

"Okay. I like your place." Bruce says endearingly. Those cobalt blue eyes set to puppy mode.

Eames remembers Alfred telling him something about wanting to hug Bruce and cuddle him, but two gentlemen engaging in such acts isn't considered proper, and a father-figure must hold his affection close to his heart, not let it manifest in everyday life. Now that character bleed is getting to be a regular problem, and multiple characters are actually starting to blend onto each other, Eames currently feels a similar urge.

"Mr. Wayne," Eames says quickly before Bruce can disappear. "I am sorry they took all your money."

"No you're not." The innocence is instantly replaced by a shrewdness that takes Eames' breath away. _Dissociative personality much?_

* * *

Eames waits for Bruce outside Wayne Manor, fully comfortable in Mal's face. It's heartbreaking to watch him standing outside in the rain, lost and alone.

"Nobody's answering."

"No," Bruce sounds equal part disbelieving and resigned to his fate. "I'm on my own now." Talk about pathetic fallacy.

"Do you have keys?"

Cue puppy dog look which Bruce should frankly have patented. "I never needed 'em."

"Suffering builds character." Eames says sagely after they are safe from Arthur's blasted rain. There never was a more obsessive-compulsive dreamer. _The weather needs to reflect the mood, Mr. Eames._

Bruce throws a towel around Miranda's shoulders. "I'll take care of your parent's legacy, Bruce." Eames promises.

Rachel may possibly Bruce's one true love, but she will always play second fiddle to the real lady in his life, Gotham. "Who's this?" Eames asks as he stares at her picture, _And how can we terminate her from your mind?_

Bruce takes her picture from Miranda, staring at her thoughtfully. Just another reminder of what he's lost.

"Where's Alfred."

"He left... taking everything." Bruce whispers listlessly.

Eames takes the picture from Bruce's hand and puts it back in its place. Then he does something he has been aching to do since he first started stalking this man.

The kiss is full of confusion. Bruce honestly cannot believe it's happening. It's so refreshing to see him question _something _about this dream, that Eames' doesn't even bother asking: _So a girl is waiting for you in the rain, drenched and wet. What other reason could she have for being here?_

When power shuts off, Eames takes it for the signal it is. Arthur is watching.

Bruce is a gentle lover. Everything is very gentlemanly and missionary. Eames imagines this is what sex with Rachel must have been like – if there was any, ever. As the power in Bruce's muscles shift under Miranda's hands, not much of that strength is applied during lovemaking. Bruce is afraid he will break her. No, he is convinced he will break her. Like he has broken all his prior relationships.

When the deed is done, and Bruce is lying, sated Eames tends to the fire. Bruce can't quite believe a girl so posh and wealthy can work a hearth. Funnily enough, back in the day, Eames showed Mal how to work one of these damn things, and then she showed Cobb. Someone from the team always comes back with a new skill and passes it on to his or her members. Eames makes a note of asking Ariadne if she knows how to work a fireplace.

* * *

Faking sleep around Batman is hard, but Eames manages. Bruce leaves Miranda's arms soon enough to meet the Cat. Playing a double role in a love triangle is as exhausting as it is exhilarating.

Even the tunnels Ariadne created seem painful to navigate through in those heels. Eames loves the way they make him look, but the pain in his heels and shins is slowly killing him. After arriving at their designated spot, he waits, somewhat impatiently.

"Don't be shy."

Batman reveals himself from the shadows, almost coy.

"Wayne says you can get me the Clean Slate." Just the mere mention of the program spooks Eames. Usually when he makes up fake shit like this, projections ream him from every direction and not the kind of fun reaming he just got from Bruce.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you want it for. I acquired it to keep it out of the wrong hands."

Eames wants to bang his head against the wall. He doesn't expect much sense from the guy who dresses up as a giant bat, but still, _some_ sense would be nice. _What could I possibly do with the software that erases you from every database on earth, other than erase my name?... Erase other people's names?_

"Still don't trust me, huh? How can we change that?"

"Start by taking me to Bane."

Eames wants to talk him out of it. He's been faithful to the plan so far, but to what avail? What has Bruce gotten out of all this, but pain, and heartbreak? Will breaking this man really serve any kind of purpose?

Leaving the plan halfway would be even more disastrous. It would just leave Bruce crippled mentally, _and _physically. Now they are truly in too deep. "You asked." The Cat reminds Bruce one last time and starts to lead him through the tunnels.

"From here, Bane's men control the tunnels and they are not your average brawlers."

"Neither am I."

It doesn't take much to distract Bruce enough to slip away while Dummy Cat takes over. There are enough pawns that even Batman has to leave his companion unsupervised at certain intervals. Eames uses one as a golden opportunity and quickly slithers into shadows to prepare for his next role.


	5. Chapter 5

"I had to find a way to stop them from trying to kill me." The programmed reflection says.

Batman doesn't look surprised at the backstabbing, just glad that it happened sooner rather than later. That he didn't let his guard down any further than he already has. That he hasn't given this woman anything else of his she can sell.

"You made a serious mistake."

"Not as serious as yours... I fear." Eames says and he means it. Every syllable of it. This... was a mistake. Of epic proportions.

There is no fear in those dark blue eyes. A resignation. "Bane."

"Let's not stand on ceremony here... Mr. Wayne." The point isn't to be ominous, or terrifying. The point is to not be. To put Bruce at some kind of ease. Eames wonders if he can possibly protect Batman from Bane. That maybe if he just plays this right, he can follow the plan _and _let Bruce leave here, whole.

Batman walks up to Bane with a suicidal sort of efficiency, without any kind of hesitation, any sign of _thinking it through _and just attacks. No amount of physical dominance is enough to turn him backward.

The moves are good, but apparently not as good as they used to be. Catching one fist in his fiendishly powerful hand is terrifyingly easy. "Peace has cost you your strength." Arthur was very very right. Aging Batman has given Eames a damn good advantage. "Victory has defeated you."

The kicks _hurt. _The Kevlar threatens to break under the pressure it is put under. Every attempt to block is used as a weapon, each head butt does more damage to Batman than it does Bane.

Batman keeps stepping forward, keeps taking the abuse and matching punch for punch. Eames lets Batman attack a few times, but ultimately, Bane delivers a monstrous kick and Batman falls off the bridge in a graceful heap of darkness.

Bane follows, quickly climbing down a chain. Batman is thrown against a pillar. The hero doesn't miss a beat and starts with a new set of deadly moves. The difference is that Eames can no longer stop Bane from punching back. Batman gives it his all, with strength he doesn't know he has. Ultimately he falls, and takes a few kicks to his ribcage that he will remember, far beyond this dream.

Batman gets up again, climbing the iron steps behind him backwards and lets out an anguished scream; he healthiest thing he has done this entire dream and tries to attack Bane again, only to be punched in the chest. Another kick to the thorax and the dark knight lies supine, gasping for breath. He is getting desperate. Age and strength have failed him, together.

Bane watches, amused as Batman throws a fancy gadget and feeble puffs of smoke decorate the air around him. "Theatricality and deception. Powerful agents... to the uninitiated people. But we are initiated? Aren't we Bruce?" Bane walks toward Batman, slowly and even-paced. "Members of the League of Shadows."

Batman gets up, every time Bane thinks he won't, he delivers a surprise, and attacks with a new rush of adrenaline.

Bane finally grabs Batman and dangles him in the air with one arm, his grip around that elegant throat constrictive and painful. "And you betrayed us." That ominous voice booms. Eames hears it from far far away.

"Yes," There is fear in those blue eyes, just the presence of it is daunting. "You were excommunicated, by a gang of psychopaths." Batman says, despite the dread, but the magnitude of what he has willingly walked into, the realization is finally starting to sink in.

Bane slams Batman against a pillar, prepping his back for the horror that's about to come and throws the hero on the ground like a cardboard box, not a two hundred pound man suited in heavy Kevlar. "I am..." Bane stares into the heavens and announces for the entire universe to hear, calmly "the League of Shadows... and I am here to fulfill Ra's Al Ghul's destiny." Bane throws his arms open as if challenging anyone to dare disagree.

Eames watches in horror as Batman accepts the challenge and even manages to tackle Bane to the ground. A few, heavy punches are successfully delivered, but Bane answers with a head butt that makes Batman see stars.

Batman struggles to get up after Bane throws him off, feeling like a small two year old rather than the dreaded Caped Crusader he once used to be.

"You fight, like a younger man." Eames is astonished to find that Bane respects Batman as much as he loathes him. "There's nothing held back. It's admirable, but mistaken."

Another nifty gadget and the lights are out. The same miracle Batman pulled at the tunnel during what is now known as the stock exchange fiasco.

Amusement of the highest degree... "You think darkness is your ally?" Somewhere, Eames screams hysterically, begs Batman to just _run, damn it. _"You've merely adopted the dark. I was born in it... Molded by it... I didn't see the light until I was already a man, by then it was nothing to me but BLINDING. "

Batman is caught once again, easily. If anything, the darkness makes Bane faster. "Shadows betray you, because they belong to me!" Fists are delivered in rapid succession to Batman's head. The cowl absorbs some of the shock, but there's a limit, and Bruce is starting to feel it.

Bane walks away, leisurely, "I will show you where I had made my home whilst preparing to bring justice... Then I will break you." Bane says, firmly and confidently.

Batman struggles to breathe while a detonator lands in Bane's hand. A shockwave travels up the pillars, the ceiling crumbles, and one of Batman's prized tumblers lands not twenty feet away from where he is.

"Your precious armory, gratefully accepted. We will need it."

Watching his honorable weapons being desecrated by Bane's thugs revitalizes Batman one last time. He rises, despite Eames' screams.

"Ah yes, I was wondering what would break first." Bane easily dodges the next attack and knees Batman in the stomach. "Your spirit..."

Eames claws at Bane to let go, he is mockingly ignored.

"...Or your body." Batman is lifted high in the air, and then quickly dropped on Bane's knee, letting out an agonized scream as he is thrown on the ground like a rag toy. After removing Batman's cowl, Bane walks away, staring at the broken gear with mild curiosity and then letting it fall to the floor when he has lost interest. The pawns drag Bruce away as programmed.

Eames lingers behind, watching the bloodstains on the floor blankly.

* * *

"It had to be done," Arthur says from where he leans against the prison wall.

Eames holds Bruce's hand with reverence.

"He had to be broken, Mr. Eames."

Even in deep sleep Bruce's lips are a livid, stern line. Eames leans in and gently kisses that noble brow, just to ease some of that pressure.

"Don't you get it," Arthur places what he thinks is a comforting hand on Eames' shoulder. "We might have just saved his mind."

"Or broken it." They both wince when Bane's voice escapes Eames' lips. "Sorry," The forger apologizes in his own tone.

"I don't have a problem with villain, Mr. Eames." Arthur squeezes the man's shoulder meaningfully.

"You should have seen him, darling." Eames brings Bruce's left hand up to his lips and kiss it softly. "He fought like a warrior."

"I'll take your word for it." Arthur starts reapplying the mask to Eames' face once more. "He will be waking soon."

"Will he?" Eames asks as his face is slowly covered.

"Have faith."

"In the man I just crippled?"

"In the man _we _just crippled." Arthur says, "I refuse to let you take full blame for this."

"You weren't there."

"Because you wouldn't let me." Arthur gives Eames a disbelieving look. "I am not the damsel in distress you make me out to be, Mr. Eames."

"This is all on me, love." Eames takes in Bruce's ashen face, and his slow breathing, "You have nothing to do with this."

"Fine," Arthur throws his hands up in the air. "Keep protecting me. See where that gets you in this damn business."

A soft groan escapes chapped lips. Arthur quickly disappears in the shadows as Bruce horribly shudders into consciousness. Bane is the first vision he sees at his awakening.

"Why didn't you just... kill me?" This would be the lowest low in his life.

"You don't fear death, you welcome it. Your punishment must be more severe."

"Where am I?"

"Home. Where I learned the truth about despair, as will you." Bane introduces Bruce to the worst hell on earth; how he will die here, as will his hope. "You can watch me torture an entire city," Bruce follows Bane's gaze to the TV, "And then when you truly understood the truth of your failure, we will fulfill Ra's Al Ghul's destiny."

"We will destroy Gotham. And then, when it is done, and Gotham is ashes... Then you have my permission to die." That said, Bane pushes against Bruce's chest with so much pressure, that it throws his back in painful spasms.

* * *

There comes a point in a man's life, when he would pay someone to kill him. Bruce never thought he would live to see such a day. Bruce was wrong.

Unfortunately, Bane has paid people to keep him alive, and Bruce doesn't have anything to top his price. There is nothing left. He doesn't even feel his legs any more. There should be a moment of panic here, paralysis is frightening enough under normal circumstances. A fiend is out to burn Gotham to the ground, and here is Bruce, broken and destroyed.

A moment of hatred for the Cat hits Bruce so hard, so intense, that he is left breathless and confused. Drops of water calm him down enough to pay attention to the men tending to him.

Bruce manages to crane his neck and witness the spectacle that is a man failing to climb out of this black hole.

The TV screen seems to be a portal to an endless horror movie. Bruce watches, helpless. Bane is a man of his word, it seems. The structure is crumbling in front of Bruce's very eyes. Bridges are literally burned. The police has disappeared from the scene altogether. The real cherry on top is the bomb Wayne enterprises built. And Martial Law just completes the entire nightmare.

There are many horrific moments to focus on, but perhaps the worst would be the brutally honest reveal of Harvey's truth.

"The Batman didn't murder Harvey Dent, he saved my boy." Bane quotes Gordon, and all of a sudden, it's over. The fragile truth is out there, bared for the entire world to see, and Bruce can't breathe. His lungs don't even want to bother anymore.

The men who watch over him are trained in medicine, and manage to get Bruce respiring again, entirely against his wishes.

Blackgate is opened, the scum of Gotham, locked away for eight years by the blessings of the 'Dent Act' are suddenly free to loot the rich and the poor to their hearts content and Bruce lies here, slightly less useless than a vegetable.

"Gotham will survive." Bane says, and Bruce throws himself on the floor. This little vacation is seriously starting to cost him. Like everything else in Bruce's life right now, his legs refuse to cooperate.

"He says you must first fix your back."

"How does he know?" Bruce inquires, not really interested as he is turned supine.

His caretakers tell him all about Bane, and how the mask holds the pain away. Bruce vows to break it the first chance he gets. If he ever even gets a chance.

Bane escaped as a child, and learning that makes Bruce feel about four inches tall. Here he is, a grown man, crippled and emasculated. There is no sympathy in his heart for the mercenary, or his child. All he feels is hatred. Pure, intense, blinding, white hot hatred. And not just for Cat or Bane, for the entire universe. It feels good to feel so angry. Bruce feels liberated in a way, freed. It's as if by breaking every aspect of his life, Bane has brought him to a new level of peace.

Bruce screams when he is forced upright by rope, but the intense ball of pain in his spine is nothing compared to the one in his psyche. Images flow in from everywhere, his parents getting shot down. Rachel, dying helpless, alone, while Batman ran off to save the man whose guilt he shouldered for better part of a decade. The Cat's betrayal, Bane's... existence. Period. It feels so good to be hurt, to physically bear as much angst as he is mentally. His entire world has failed him. His once unbreakable armor has crumbled, literally and metaphorically. His sanctuary has been disturbed. The one person- Bruce feels tears flow down his cheeks – which he never thought would leave him. Alfred's tears come to mind and Bruce sobs even harder. How pathetic has he become, that the most unconditional love in his life, one which has endured everything, has up and left.

If his caretakers notice his hysterical sobbing, they have enough decency to not mention it. The vertebra Bane displaced with his abominable strength is properly aligned, and Bruce relishes it. Enjoys his punishment. He deserves this so bad. If only it had happened eight years ago, when he was younger, and his wounds were raw and gushing. He needs this to last, but it won't. He will heal. Bruce feels regret. He should be punished, forever. If only there was some way to make this permanent. Bane is lucky to have his hurt. If Bruce were in his place, he wouldn't bother wearing a mask. He would gladly suffer.

He hallucinates Ra's Al Ghul's figure. It feels terrible to see him again, immortal and perfect. Time has broken Bruce, and here is Ra's, frozen. Age spares no one, but this man clearly didn't get the memo. Bruce doesn't care if the child belongs to his mentor. If anything, it makes his blood singe even more. Nothing fucking matters any more. When this is all over, Bruce will personally bring his wrath down on everyone and anyone who has ever wronged him.

"Gotham is beyond saving, and must be allowed to die." There is nothing anyone has ever said, which has pissed Bruce off to this extent before. Absolutely nothing. It just makes him stand even faster.

He denies any help which is offered to him. He has fallen far enough. There is no need for his fellow prisoners to further assist him. His pride has taken the beating of a lifetime as it is. Any more blows will kill it.

"Why build yourself?" His companions ask with amusement, they have probably seen it all before. Idiots growing their muscles, thinking physical perfection will help them escape. Bruce is furious. He works out even harder, his shoulders protest as he pushes up and down against the unforgiving concrete. His hands are bloody and his back is hurting, and Bruce loves it. He can't get enough pain. There is a masochistic streak beginning to grow inside him, and Bruce nurtures it. Watches it grow with pride.

The TV mocks Bruce. "I am not meant to die in here." His city suffers, and he wants it all for himself. It's _his_ pain they are bearing and Bruce is very possessive of things that are his. He can't wait to restore order, to shower his people with happiness and take all of their scars for himself.

"Here or there, what's the difference?" More mocking. Like Bruce could ever die anywhere else. Like there is a better place to take his last breathe, to feel the life leave his limbs, to take his final blow from whatever villain takes Batman down.

It won't be Bane. Not Bane. Bruce won't allow that. Maybe somewhere down the road when he is seventy years old and Alfred is pushing 150 there will be someone sturdy enough to bring Bruce down but not now. The time is not now.

Bruce tries the climb and fails. It doesn't matter. He tries again, and again, and again. It feels good every time the rope jerks his already throbbing back when he falls. If he could only bottle this glorious, brilliant pain and keep it forever.

His fellow prisoners chant and urge him on, but he fails to rise. Just misses the mark by millimeters every single time, and the Bruce of the past, Ra's Al Ghul's Bruce would have gotten tired of it, but not this Bruce. Not Bane's Bruce. This Bruce basks in his own failure. He has sunk so low, he can almost see the core of his earth. Bruce takes comfort from his defeat.

The TV had it coming. Bane displays bodies hanging in the wind for Bruce to see and he can't take it anymore. His city endures but it _shouldn't have to. _That's the point of Batman. It's why he exists, to keep shit from hitting the fan, so citizens can be spared.

His companions have to audacity to accuse Bruce of fear. He laughs in the face of death, always has. It's his one true speciality in a world full of banal billionaires. "I am not afraid," He doesn't care if they don't believe him, "I am angry."

Bruce doesn't get tired of failing, but his companions do. "You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong? It makes you weak."

They are right. Bruce might have discarded the fear of death, because a vigilante in Gotham can't really afford to have one. But it might be time to bring that fear back. Bruce is broken and crippled but the most human thing in him has ceased to exist. "I fear dying in here," Bruce admits it, "While my city burns. There's no one there to save it."

Bruce thinks climbing without the rope would be stupid, but if Bane did it, so will he. His companions know which buttons to push. He even prepares necessities this time. Water and some food for his travels. There's showing some optimism when all Bruce wants is to rip himself apart with his own hands. The rage simmers underneath his skin, just waiting for a chance to take over.

Bats come out of nowhere, maybe a product of his imagination, maybe they have started following him around thinking him some kind of leader, but Bruce ignores them. Nothing will break his concentration now. Making the jump is stupidly easy. Like it's been right here all along, which it has, and Bruce hasn't been making the connection. There is a dreamlike quality to his triumph, Bruce almost doesn't believe it. The prisoners cheer for him, as if they are relieved he has finally come to his senses.

* * *

Bruce watches Selena rescue a kid with as much detachment as he can possibly muster. "You are pretty generous for a thief," He calls out. She doesn't look surprised to see him. If anything, she was expecting him.

"I thought they killed you." She is a good liar, maybe even the best, but Bruce sees right through her. If only he had this kind of sense eight years ago. Maybe he could have prevented the hell he has brought down on himself.

"Not yet."

"If you are expecting an apology..." She starts to say but Bruce stops her. At this point, he doesn't expect anything, from anyone, ever. He is probably stupid for coming to her, but he has fallen, far. Even crawling to Selena on his knees would be acceptable over losing Gotham.

"It wouldn't suit you. I need your help." Bruce's pride has died a violent death, but he's better off without it. His city deserves more than that.

"And why would I help you?" She drawls out.

_Either you help me willingly or I make you. _Bruce dangles bait in front of her. "For this. Clean Slate." _For your sake, I hope you take it._

"You trust me with that, after what I did to you?"

_I would rip out my kidneys and hand them to you on a silver platter at this point. _"I'll admit I was a little let down." Bruce tries to look charming and uncaring. If Selena notices the bleeding resentment, she doesn't mention it. "But I still think there's more to you..." Bruce lies well, but she can see through it. She is the master of lies.

Bruce convinces her to take him to Fox. Even better, he convinces himself not to tear her throat out.

* * *

"You picked a hell of a time to go on vacation, Mr. Wayne." Fox says.

"Bruce..." Miranda's eyes light up when she sees him.

"You okay?" Bruce asks her, and she nods. "How long until that core ignites?"

"The bomb goes off in twelve hours."

"Unless we can reconnect it to the reactor."

"Can you get Miranda out of here?" Fox asks.

_Yeah, I'll get right on that. _"Not tonight, I am sorry."

"Do what's necessary."

Bruce finds it suspicious that she doesn't push for her own safety. Maybe she is being self-sacrificing. Maybe she is planning something malicious. Only time will tell. For now, he will give her the benefit of the doubt. His city will always be first priority. "Tonight I need you," Bruce tells Fox.

"What for?"

"To get me back in the game."

The men holding them capture start to misbehave. As the Cat takes care of them, Bruce turns to Miranda. "I won't forget about us."

"I know." And there it is. Her gaze. Her cold, calculating gaze so devoid of any kind of emotion that Bruce struggles to breathe for a precious moment. It's as if his mind has cleared, and the world's deceptions are obvious to see. If his entire world wasn't about to end, Bruce would gladly investigate Miranda's past in meticulous detail. But now isn't the time to look into this suspicious woman. Gotham is always first.

"I like your girlfriend, Mr. Wayne." Fox says as the Cat frees him.

"He should be so lucky."

_Yes, _Bruce thinks sarcastically, _any man would be lucky to have you._

Some anonymous idiot has the detonator. Fox recommends a long-range microburst signal mounted over the Bat.

Bruce wants to get dressed as quickly as possible. There once was a time he felt uncomfortable and inhuman in the Batsuit. Now he is just naked and lost. For once in his life, he needs Batman more than Gotham does.

It stings that Fox hasn't notice the ready-to-use autopilot. Or at least it would have, if Bruce's pride wasn't already dead.

* * *

When the fire rises, and the bat is alight for the entire world to see, Bruce feels nothing. He just wants Gotham to know he is here. To get their hopes up, ease their despairs. They might be doomed, but they should let Batman worry about that.

"Where's Miranda Tate?"

"Bane took her." Gordon tells Batman.

_Of course he did. _Batman thinks. _She is the perfect bait._

"He's holed up in city hall, surrounded by his army."

After entrusting Gordon with the microburst and instructions, Batman sets out to save another woman, who will most likely maim him from the inside.

* * *

Arthur finds Batman mesmerizing. The thugs aren't anything special. They attack one at a time, like a bad kung fu movie, but watching the Caped Crusader in action is impressive nonetheless.

"If you are working alone, wear a mask."

Arthur fights the urge to burst out laughing. It's almost as Batman sees him as some kind of fellow vigilante. He manages to give a John Blake-esque answer. "I'm not afraid to see being standing up to these guys."

"The mask is not for you. It's to protect the people you care about."

Arthur understands. The first thing a supervillain would do is kidnap Eames and hold him ransom.

The Bat is absolutely brilliant. Arthur throws himself out of the way, and promises to make the damn thing himself when he wakes up, that is, if Lucius doesn't agree.

When the policemen are freed, Arthur walks up to Batman. "What now?"

"All-out assault on Bane. But you need to get people across the bridge."

"Why?"

"In case we fail."

"You don't need me here?"

"You have given me an army, now go."

If Arthur wasn't already in a relationship, this would be the moment he would fall head over heels in love. "Alright, thanks."

"Don't thank me yet."

"Well, I might not get a chance later." Arthur says as he leaves. The dream is about to time out soon. Regardless of what happens, Bruce Wayne has somehow managed to make two new friends.

* * *

"You shouldn't have." The Cat says and Batman agrees. It's probably a mistake to let this woman near the Batpod, but it's the time of desperation.

"The canons have enough firepower to make a path for people. Wait until the fighting begins."

"You are going to wage your war to save your stuck up girlfriend?"

In Batman's mind somewhere, Bruce laughs. He will do everything to save Miranda, yes – he is a moron that way – but he can smell the deceit coming from miles away. "To start it, throttle."

"I got it," She drawls arrogantly. Odd. It took Bruce quite a while to learn how to maneuver the damn thing. It takes her five seconds.

"We got forty-five minutes to save the city."

"No, I got forty-five minutes to clear the blast radius, because you don't stand a chance against these guys."

_I expect nothing else from you, _"With your help I might." Batman tries. For Gotham he will.

"I'll open that tunnel, but then I'm gone."

"There's more to you than that." _Please god let there be. For Gotham's sake. _For the first time in his life, Bruce finds himself praying. To the same deity who took his parents away.

"Sorry to keep letting you down." She says, almost in tears. For the first time since the day Bruce has met her, it seems that she is deviating from a script of some kind. It should feel refreshing to meet the real her, but it's too late. Bruce has already let go.

"Come with me." She says, her lips almost shaping the word _please_, "Save yourself... You don't owe these people anything. You've given them everything."

_They deserve all of me. I belong to them. Now and always. _"Not everything. Not yet." That said, Bruce walks away.

She straddles the bike like a pro, practiced, as if she knows exactly how to operate it. If Gotham survives the night, he vows to investigate. This isn't her first time riding a Batpod, and Bruce would like to know where she got the experience.

* * *

Gotham's police force stands together, timid, afraid. Bane's men cheer and swagger, using every intimidation tactic in the book. The tumblers stand ominous, looking oddly majestic, even in the wrong hands.

Despite their fear, Gotham's finest march forward steadily. There is a heart stopping moment where each tumbler gets ready to shower bullets but a majestic machine descends and disarms the tanks. It's as if Gotham's cops all come to life at once, and charge toward the enemy at full speed.

Batman cannot stop Bane's men from firing, but he is glad he neutralized his tumblers. The less blood on Wayne Enterprises, the better.

Gotham loses more cops in the next five minutes than it has in the past five decades.

* * *

Eames has never been gladder to see projections attack. All these years in the business, cursing the human mind and its resilience. The fact that Bruce Wayne's mentality has healed enough to form some defense fills him with the kind of happiness he first experienced forging, or as a child, when he did the most clichéd of all clichéd things and nursed a bird back to flight.

Bane, as usual, ignores Eames completely, and attacks projections ruthlessly, breaking their necks and their backs. He is looking for Batman, and even addresses Eames for the first time, demanding to know where the knight is, but doesn't receive any information.

Eames cannot protect Batbrain forever, and it's not like the caped wonder is exactly hiding. He is looking for Bane. Two severe pairs of eyes meet across the crowded space, and they are drawn to each other like magnets.

"So you came back to die with your city." Bane drawls, even feigns surprise.

"No," Batman's gaze is as blank as ever, not a hint of emotion in those calm eyes. "I came back to stop you." The perfect mission statement, elegant and simple.

Eames believes every syllable. Arthur has never been wrong about these things, and he isn't about this mission. Breaking Bruce Wayne, breaking Batman, has only made him stronger. Removed the inherent structural weaknesses and created a new man. One which frustrates Bane to no end. His moves haven't changed, and neither have Batman's but the caped crusader fights with a new strength, a new power. It's as if dead batteries have been recharged.

If the projections notice two inhuman entities fighting amongst them, they don't dare interfere. They let Batman handle his business, keeping the area around him and Bane clear by taking care of the pawns with a frightening organization.

One thing hasn't changed, won't change. There is no hesitation. This exercise hasn't taught Bruce Wayne any kind of self-preservation and no exercise ever will. Batman refuses to back down. Bane is still stronger than Batman, but not quite as stubborn.

Bruce had promised himself that he would attack the wretched mask, ever since he learned of its properties, or maybe even before that, when Bane dared crush Batman's cowl in with his filthy hands. The same hands which have destroyed his glorious city to this bizarre mess.

Eames lets out a strangled whimper when the mask breaks; he bears the pain as Bane scrambles to reapply the delicate tubes which keep the analgesic flowing. It's complicated, and Bane's monstrous hands don't do the job quite as quickly as Arthur's elegant fingers. Batman uses this opportunity to get some brutal hits in.

Bane eventually recovers, and starts attacking Batman again with a sort of seriousness which stuns Eames. The amused, indulging quality of the blows is gone. Batman, is now a real threat.

Batman dodges a punch, the pillar behind him takes the brunt of the force and breaks as if it is paper. It's a miracle his spine didn't crumble to dust in Bane's hand. Despite Bane's newfound enthusiasm, it's too late to recover. Batman already has the advantage, and one well-placed kick is enough to send him falling through the glass doors.

Pushing away Bane's right hand man as if he is a dummy, Batman throws Miranda a gun. He knows she will turn on him. Expects it, fully. But he wants to give her a chance. Rachel left him for Dent. The Cat hand-delivered him to a monster. Bruce needs to know, despite Batman's warning, that the woman he spent that rainy night with hasn't abandoned him.

She hasn't. Because to abandon him, she would have to be on his side in the first place. Not only has she been carrying the trigger this entire time, she has been Bane's biggest partner, his supporter.

And how could Bruce not see those eyes? Those features? Those mannerisms? She is every bit of Ra's Al Ghul's daughter as Bruce is Gotham's knight, but she doesn't need to hide it behind a mask. She has been wearing it proudly, like a badge of honour, all this time, and Bruce has been blind to it. Because of lust? Loneliness? Plain old-fashioned stupidity?

She stabs him in the side, and no amount of medicine, or clotting will ever stop the blood that flows from his side. Something inside Bruce is trickling away and it will never come back. Bruce doesn't even want it to. As she fixes Bane's mask with those delicate fingers, with love, with worship, Bruce vows to never trust another woman again.

"His only crime was that he loved me. I could not forgive my father, until you murdered him."

Bruce congratulates himself for causing her as much pain as she has caused him. _I would kill a trillion of him for my city._ "He was trying to kill millions of innocent people." _The bastard, and you slept with his murderer._

"Innocent is a strong word to throw around Gotham, Bruce." She says, and for the first time in his life, Batman has felt the urge to _kill._

"I honor my father by finishing his work. Vengeance against the man who killed him is simply a reward for my patience. You see..." She takes Batman's face in her hands, and it's repulsive. That soothing touch, that a few months ago, Bruce would have done anything for, is toxic. It burns his skin.

"The knife that waits years without forgetting, and slips quietly between the bones." She twists the blade between his ribs, and takes full pleasure from the pained gasp that escapes his lips.

"Please," Batman begs one last time, and he will beg to this vengeful harpy again and again if he has to, his pride is dead and he doesn't want it back. What good is pride if his blessed city is annihilated?

The plea has no effect on her, if anything it spurs her on. She presses the button without an inkling of hesitation, but Gordon is out there somewhere, near that horrific bomb, and has deactivated the detonator.

"Maybe that knife is too slow." Batman has never felt so relieved in his entire time. The bomb will go off in a few minutes anyway, but that precious time is enough. Batman will take it all, even mere seconds.

After giving Bane's man orders to protect the bomb, Miranda, Talia, gives Batman that same cold look she did before, "Don't kill him, I want him to feel the heat. The fire of 12 million souls." Of all the women in Bruce's life, she is possibly the only one who understands what those lives mean to him. "You failed." And there it is, her ultimate revenge. Those two words are enough to make up for her father's death because they take the life out of Bruce.

With one last tender good bye to Bane, she disappears, leaving Batman to his fate.

"We both know that I have to kill you now." A monstrous kick throws Batman to the ground. "You just have to imagine the fire," and it's a mercy. Bruce would rather die before his people than with them, knowing the clock timed out.

The Cat arrives in time to save him, along with a funny quip and an _I told you so _waiting to fall from those scarlet lips. Batman gets off the ground, and runs toward her, not willing to waste a second of the precious time extension he has been awarded.

"We have to force them to the entrance of the reactor, I need you on the ground." Batman gasps out. Relieved that someone is here to participate in this madness.

* * *

The Bat appears out of nowhere, and Batman maneuvers it through buildings, this nightmarish vision is getting dreamier and dreamier every second, and Bruce has a difficult time believing any of this is true. "You have to get that bomb here, and you got ten minutes," Fox's voice reminds Batman, but it's just so hazy, this entire world is starting to blur at the edges. _Maybe I am starting to snap. _Bruce thinks to himself. _I am surprised it has taken this long._

The Cat takes out a tumbler, and Bruce's trust in humanity is marginally restored, but to what end. His entire world is shattering.

Heat-seeking missiles chase him and he manages to deflect them into buildings. Bruce vows to make enough money, just so he can fix these damages the Bat is causing. Fox keeps guiding him, "You have got to turn the truck east." One blast is enough to bring it to the desired location.

"Gimme a hand, we can get a cable on it." Gordon's mere presence is enough to lighten Bruce's dreamy nightmare by a thousand shades. Even now, at age pushing forty, Jim Gordon has the same healing effect on Bruce that he did when Bruce was a brand new orphan.

Talia, or Miranda, or whoever the fuck she is, is dying. Batman watches with satisfaction as her soul slowly trickles out of her, painfully. She deserves every agonizing second. "Fox showed me how to override the reactor." She is so damn proud, so malicious, so villainous. Her transformation is breathtaking. She is truly, Ra's Al Ghul's spawn. "Including the emergency flood." She giggles like a school girl. "Prepare yourself, my father's work is done."

Despite's Gordon's protests, Batman quickly starts preparing the cables. No bomb will take his city away. The autopilot is working, but there is still a chance he will get caught in the blast radius. It doesn't matter. Bruce has come to a realization of sorts. He exists, breathes and dies for his city. No woman, or criminal, or explosive will get between him and his home. Bruce doesn't care where he is going after this nightmare ends, but he prays it's Gotham, or at least a replica of it. Heaven is overrated. Give Bruce his city.

He lets Cat kiss him as thanks for her help. She did come to his aid when no one else did. "I guess we are both suckers." She says breathlessly. And Bruce agrees. They are both very, very stupid. And it will cost them.

He doesn't have enough time to see Gordon's reaction to his truth. Dumbass Bruce Wayne, Gotham's dark knight. If the last human he sees before his death is Jim Gordon, than his life has played out perfectly, and he is glad. He thinks of Rachel, and says good bye. His parents. And Alfred, his one shade in the blistering desert of life. As he flies over Gotham for the last time, he tells her how much he loves her. How much she means to him. How empty he is without her, and how he will defend her to his last breathe, and beyond that even, if he's allowed. He closes his eyes, and flies into the distance, ready to meet death, but hoping, for his people, that the autopilot, for once, fucking works. Because if Batman is useless without Gotham, then Gotham is undefended without its humble servant.


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce wakes, gasping for breath, screaming at the top of his lungs. In the next room, Arthur is dragged, most of his weight shouldered by Lucius. Yusuf and Cobb shoulder an unconscious Eames' weight and carry him outside. Ariadne quickly follows with the PASIV. Alfred closes the door behind them and rushes to Bruce's side. "Master Wayne."

"Alfred," Bruce whimpers and grabs the butler's hand in a tight grip. "Alfred."

"Hey," Alfred says softly and grabs the clammy hand back just as tightly, "Did you have a nightmare?"

Bruce's arm stings like a motherfucker, like that one time he needed intravenous access but accidently ripped it out too hard. "No, Alfred it wasn't a dream, it wasn't."

"Then what was it?" Alfred sits down at Bruce's bedside, willing to listen.

"It was horrible."

* * *

"It was horrible." Eames whispers. He has been bed ridden for the past six weeks. His fever broke a few days ago, but he still feels as frail as a kitten. His team has been waiting on him hand and foot, and that alone is worth the nightmare that was Bruce Wayne's mind.

"More tea, sir?" Yusuf asks dryly. He is getting sick of being one of the maids. "Ice cream? A foot rub?"

"All three would be nice, darling. Thanks." Eames smiles, careful to make it look pathetic enough for sympathy, but not too pathetic as to make it look fake.

"What order would you like them in, sir?" Yusuf wants to throw himself out the window. But refrains, for his mother's sake.

"Surprise me."

"Stop being mean." Arthur orders from beside Eames. His duties are a lot easier than the others. He has been spared the menial tasks, and has been ordered to lie in bed with Eames while the man recovers, as a pleasure slave, or a comfort pillow, depending on the time of day and the mood.

"Eames, it's story time." Ariadne announces, and starts reading where she left off yesterday. _"But more than that, I just couldn't reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant; I couldn't visualize him in any commonplace role."_

"Oh god, Eames," Cobb squints from his place in the corner. "Can we please listen to_ anything_ other than Twilight?"

"Breaking Dawn." Ariadne pauses to correct, and then resumes reading.

"I would like that too," Arthur requests, knowing he will be denied but tries anyway.

"Look how miserable it's making Cobb." Eames stage whispers. "He twitches every time Ariadne says Edward."

"I have a daughter," Cobb tries to shrug casually, "She loves this stuff, I don't have a problem with it."

"Yes," Arthur mumbles, "and Fischer destroyed his father's company for no reason whatsoever."

"Your ice cream, sir." Yusuf appears, seeming a little closer to snapping every second. "Would you like your foot rub now?"

"No." Eames says, "I don't want ice cream either. Go fetch me some iced tea, that's a love."

"Yes, sir." Yusuf says respectfully, and leaves. A muffled scream is heard five seconds later.

"You are being too mean." Arthur says drowsily. Eames' body heat is starting to tucker him out. "Stop it."

"Why can't I be the bed slave?" Yusuf mutters petulantly, half an hour later, when Eames has mercifully passed out alongside Arthur. "I am sick of being one of the bitches."

"That depends," Says Ariadne, "Are you willing to do all the depraved sexual things Arthur does to please his man?"

"How do you even know that?" Cobb says, appalled. "You know what? Never mind."

Yusuf frowns at the possessive hand Arthur has around Eames. "I think I am perfectly fine being a bitch, thank you."

* * *

Miles opens the door to a mesmerizing vision, his brother, on his porch. "That billionaire idiot child of yours run out of money?"

"Thank you." Alfred says simply, and turns around and walks away.

"You are bloody welcome." Miles shrugs and closes the door behind him, and then mumbles to himself, "Nice of you to come in person for once."

* * *

"How is he?" Cobb finds spending time with Alfred soothing, and enjoyable. Like he once used to, with Miles, before all the unpleasantness happened and his father-in-law started blaming him for breaking his beautiful little girl.

Alfred thinks of Bruce just earlier this morning, after a night of manic crime-fighting, bloody and bruised, but happy, "He won't stop smiling."

"Hmm," Cobb narrows his eyes calculatingly, "That's not always a good sign."

"He talks about Rachel," Alfred continues, "Reminisces, looks through her pictures."

"That is a good sign. It means he is starting to let go."

"Eames said something about insecurities." Alfred says, "He is afraid I will leave."

"You won't." Miles scolds and curses Cobb, and will never forgive him what he turned his daughter into, but he is even less likely to abandon the father of his grandchildren.

"He is the most precious thing in my life."

"He has been through a lot." Cobb leans in close, "He hasn't been questioning your love, or loyalty. It's not about you."

"Miles and I," Alfred feels as if swallowing crushed glass when he thinks of his brother, and his dead little girl, and the loss and haunting emptiness that is his once vibrant twin, "We never had anything in common."

Cobb raises an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that look. Twins can be different too. A shared womb doesn't mean a thing." Alfred chastises, "When I was little, I would always pray to God. To make Miles dumber," a chuckle escapes, "He was always such a professor, or make me smarter. As long as we have something to talk about."

Cobb listens, silently.

"And now his daughter is dead," Alfred doesn't care if tears flow, "And my Bruce could have died, and we would have shared that grief."

Cobb looks away, he has seen enough pain for a lifetime.

"And I am so glad we don't." Alfred pulls out a handkerchief and sniffles into it. "It's a terrible thing to say."

"No, it isn't..." Cobb starts to say.

"It's a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, let alone my brother." Alfred continues, "I can't remember anything before Bruce. My life began at his birth."

Cobb looks down at his folded hands.

"Now Miles has you," Alfred smiles sadly, "And your children, and her memories... She had the most beautiful smile."

"She did." Cobb agrees.

"Master Wayne won't stop smiling," Alfred pulls out a picture of a toddler, greyed and worn around the edges, as if it's looked at every day. The child has a big smile on its face. "He has the most beautiful smile."

* * *

A/N: There is more to come, I will update in October, possibly November. The full, adult version has been posted on LJ. The link is on the profile page.


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